Mother-daughter relationships have quietly been at the forefront of most evocative and devastating stories seen in film. From classic features like Autumn Sonata (1978),  Terms of Endearment (1983), and Mermaids (1990) to more contemporary releases such as Lady Bird (2017), Petite Maman (2021), and Everything Everywhere All At Once (2022), the films that explore this relationship never disappoint, with each always adding a further layer of depth to the sub-genre. As we wade through the often isolating experience of existence, there is comfort in the recurring cinematic exploration of maternal love and its implications.

Rebecca Lenkiewicz’s directorial debut, Hot Milk (2025) (based on the novel of the same title by Deborah Levy), is next in line to dive into the complexities of this companionship. Sofia (Emma Mackey) is an anthropology master’s graduate brimming with ambition whose life grinds to a halt when her mother Rose (Fiona Shaw) unexplainably loses her ability to walk. Desperate to help her at all costs, Sofia travels with her mother to a Spanish coastal town in hopes that specialist Gomez (Vincent Perez) there can unearth the mystery of how Rose’s illness came to be and aid her in overcoming it.

Melancholia is seeped into the narrative through Mackey’s portrayal of Sofia. The circumstances in which she has been presented with prove to test her patience, love, and willingness to continue sacrificing more of herself to look after her mother. As the narrative goes on, we watch Mackey lose herself to Sofia.

From her face dropping whenever she hears Rose’s voice when she arrives home to the slow build of aggravation on her face when Rose begins to barrage her with tasks, she truly dives deep into her character’s sadness and pain throughout the runtime. For her second lead role in a feature-length film after Emily (2022), she shows that she is more than capable of captivating an audience with the attention to detail she demonstrates in portraying the depths of her character’s sadness. I cannot wait to see her tackle more leading roles like this one. 

Shaw and Mackey’s characterization of this strained mother-daughter dynamic is enthralling from start to finish. There are layers upon layers of intense feelings to unpack that each of them has towards one another. These feelings take the form of micro-mannerisms when interacting with one another that scream louder than words. This allows them to brilliantly showcase this continuous push-pull of who takes the caregiver role in the relationship. There are moments where you see Sofia yearn for an ounce of empathy from Rose, while, in contrast, Rose needs that child-like care received by a parent from Sofia. 

All of the interactions Sofia had with her mother directly fed into her romantic flings. Vicky Krieps’ Ingrid finds herself entangled with Sofia in what would be generous to call a relationship. Krieps masterfully brings the role of a standard love interest to life as a physical manifestation of the maternal love that Sofia so desperately craves. The intentional intimacy they share when Ingrid is hugging Sofia into her breasts whilst also having sudden outbursts of coldness and lack of commitment towards her showcases the ramifications that her upbringing has had on the unhealthy relationships she chooses to be involved in.

There is a recurring motif of violently passionate flamenco music that fills the otherwise empty sound of the film. The film erupts with rapid clapping of the castanets and bellowing yet rhythmic stomping at moments where everything Sofia has repressed about her resentment towards Rose and frustrations with Ingrid begins to bubble up within her, trying to escape to the surface. It is a beautiful and fiery way to build tension so that the audience knows these feelings are ready to lash out at any given moment.

The atmosphere of the film is enveloped deeply in ambiguity, yet Lenkiewicz fails to weave the dreamlike aura the novel exudes. We see glimpses of this with the almost non-linear flickers seen with Ingrid’s character; however, it is never enough to completely transfix the audience under a hazy spell. The fraction of commitment to this dreaminess does not work in the film’s favor as the narrative plays out in a way that tries to make the story feel more complex and thought-provoking than it actually is. It resembles a half-baked attempt at what Luca Guadagnino’s Queer (2024) was able to successfully achieve.

An instance where we do see some mystery is through Rose’s chronic illness. You can’t help but wonder if her mobility issues are being faked or if it is real. How exactly did this come to be? There is much left up to the audience’s interpretation around this, with my take on this being that she induced this herself as an act of desperation to ensure her daughter stays with her, as Sofia is gaining agency in her life. Yet as the story progresses, you realise that there is no gratification in solving this mystery, as the real heart of the story is the people in it.

What makes this feature work is the subtly heartbreaking performances from the three leading ladies–Mackey, Shaw, and Krieps. Together, they are the lifeline that loosely holds together the cracks that Lenkiewicz’s narrative choices create. You can’t help but wonder if there was a stronger lean into the mysticism of the novel, would those cracks still be there?

Review Courtesy of Nandita Joshi

Feature Image Credit to Mubi via JustWatch